Twas Patience
by ZombiexBunniez
Summary: What if Belle had never returned to the castle for a happily ever after? What if it was 400 years before there was another chance? P.s. no one is furniture.
1. Chapter 1

Patience glared down at the map on the bartop. She was slumped over the bar, a whiskey in one hand and the other clutching a hank of her own curls. Music played over the speakers, glasses clinked, and people talked loudly over one another, all mashing together to make an even din. Hours in the catacombs crawling through dirt and decay had left her in need of noise. The silence, beneath the streets of Paris, was deafening. Her eye's searched the intricate criss crossings of lines and markings that were all scrawled in her own hand. She'd been down tunnel after tunnel, through crevices, over remains, into pools of rancid water, and still nothing. The passage she was searching for was nowhere to be found.

Downing the last of her whiskey she slammed it onto the bartop and waved her hand for another without looking up. The barkeep didn't like her, all in all she was a horrible customer, silent and intense at her corner of the bar, but she tipped well and always settled her tab so her whiskey was refreshed and replaced quickly. Patience took a swig and sighed. There was a gaping hole in her map. An 80 by 100 foot swath of uncharted territory smack dab in the middle. She'd checked her work a thousand times and there was no miscalculation. She'd scoured every inch of the surrounding tunnels with a fine toothed comb and couldn't find a single passable route. She was seconds from dousing the map with whiskey when someone sat on the stool next to her. A quick glance to her right told her that it wasn't a mistake or a forced move. The large man next to her smiled at her with a crooked, cocky grin and one elbow leaned onto the bar top.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle." He was a large man, tanned and musclebound with dark brown eyes and a mop of brown curls; handsome by all accounts. Patience did her best not to look like she was infuriated by his intrusion on her thought process so her smile seemed completely strained. She wasn't a rude person, but this was her sanctuary and she was tired of swatting at the barflies.

"Bonjour, Monsieur, you will have to forgive me I don't speak French." A lie, but that usually got them to sod off. His crooked grin spread and showed dazzling white teeth. She wanted to roll her eyes.

"Bon, then you will give me the chance to practice my English." Merde.

"You don't seem to need any practice." She mumbled as she realized that this particular bar fly intended to make a nuisance of himself.

"Merci." He said giving a mock bow with his free arm. "May I ask what you are working on?" He gestured to her map and Patience found herself reach for it defensively. This map was her baby. It was the culmination of months worth of work, and if anything happened to it she would most likely curl into a ball and die. "I am only curious." He reassured, entirely unphased,"I wish only to know what has your beautiful face scrunched in frustration." Patience raised a brow at his compliment and felt a small grin quirk her lips. This man was certainly more ballsy than most.

"It's a map." She stated as she turned back to look at it. He leaned towards her and took a gander at the large piece of paper in front of her.

"Of the catacombs?" He asked, taking a finger and caressing one of the latin transcriptions she had marked on her map.

"Yeah, but how did you know that?" She gave him a suspicious look and a raised eyebrow. He shrugged and winked at her.

"I'm something of an extreme sportsman. Caving is a hobby of mine. I've seen that before on the wall of the catacombs."

"Civilians aren't supposed to go into restricted areas." She said accusingly. She'd had enough trouble with rascals stealing her equipment and spray painting on the walls for her liking and she wasn't about to conceal her distaste.

"What is your excuse, Ma Cheri?" He asked, seemingly amused by her ire. Patience frowned at his familiarity and sat a bit straighter in defiance.

"I'm a doctor of anthropology and archaeology. I have a permit." She stated with a smug smile. His eyebrows rose, whether in surprise or amazement she didn't know.

"My apologies, Doctor…?" The flirtatious twinkle had never left his eye and she found herself perfectly willing to tell him her name. Which was farther than any of the other bar flies had gotten.

"Dr. Patience Sin Claire." She held out her hand and rather than shaking it as expected, he took it and kissed her knuckles, a devilish grin on his face the entire time. Yanking her hand back she nearly flushed in embarrassment, but her pride wouldn't allow such a thing. He'd caught her off guard and he bloody well knew it. Frenchmen, devils all of them.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Jean-Luc." He nodded as though tipping his hat and released her hand. "What brings a woman of your intellect to our lowly catacombs?" There was a tone of mock drama in his voice as he inclined his head to her and leaned in a bit closer. It was almost cheesy the way he was coming on to her, and he was walking a tight line between being annoying and flattering. She eyed him and then took another pull of her whiskey. Despite already feeling a bit warm and buzzed, she was obviously going to need some fortification.

"I have a grant to find a passage and document it." Her answer was very vague, and intentionally so. He leaned his elbow back onto the bar and rested the side of his head on his knuckles.

"There are many passages in the catacombs. I assume they mean for you to find a specific one." His tone was teasing. God he must think himself irresistible, and certainly to some women he must be. Patience knew women who would throw their ovaries at his feet if he so much as looked in their direction, but she wasn't one to be impressed by muscles and a toothy grin.

"Naturally." Her tone was politely final on the subject and he assessed her for a moment.

"Alright, if you don't wish to tell me, then answer this; have you found it yet?" Patience thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"Do I look like the kind of girl who wants to stare at a shitty map in a crowded bar for the fun of it?" She gave a smirk of her own and downed the last of her third whiskey for the evening. She definitely felt buzzed now, and she found herself questioning that wise decision.

"Well since you asked, yes. You look like the kind of girl who would rather stare down a treasure map than do anything else." He ordered a scotch from the barkeep and took a large swig of it. Patience snorted and shook her head.

"It isn't a treasure map. I'm not some kind of pirate." She said, more than a little bit amused by his misconception.

"Really?" He asked, feigning surprise. "Because I'll bet anything that whatever you're looking for is as good as treasure to you." He pointed at her with his pinky as he held his glass.

"A hidden chapel full of old bones is hardly treasure." She didn't believe her own words of course. She had an obsession with historical items, which had fueled her through the long nights living on nothing but ramen noodles as she worked on her doctoral exams.

"So you're looking for a hidden chapel then?" He said intrigued. Patience stiffened and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Now she knew he was a devil.

"That wasn't fair." She grumbled, beginning to fold up her map and stow it in her purse. She didn't like being tricked into things and he had stepped hard on the annoying side of her imaginary boundary line.

"Perhaps I don't play fair... and perhaps I know of a passage that might lead you to your hidden chapel." He looked at her as though he was the cat who'd caught the canary. As badly as she wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face, he had piqued her interest. Her pride and her obsession with the chappel battled inside of her as she glared at him. Grudgingly she sat back down on her stool.

"Go on."

JEAN-LUC POV

The fiery little woman glared him down. He was thoroughly pleased with himself as she sat back into her chair and eyed him suspiciously.

"Your map, it is missing a passage." He stated simply as he motioned for her to replace it on the table. Patience hesitated and examined him before slowly pulling it out of her purse and spreading it back onto the bar top. She was a full head shorter than he, and was athletically built. Wild red curls framed her face and spilled down her shoulder onto her white tank top. She had intrigued him the moment he saw her. Everything about her screamed of a challenge. As soon as the map was spread once again he leaned over her, close enough to smell her patchouli shampoo and placed his finger on one of the walls marked on her map. It was directly on the eastern side of the blank space that made up the center. She snorted and looked at him with a scrunched face of disbelief. The wrinkle in her nose was adorable. It reminded him of someone else. Another intelligent woman he knew a long time ago.

"You're full of shitt. I've searched that passage from top to bottom. There is one crevice in there and it is impossible to pass through." She stated with certainty. He gave a hearty laugh and shook his head.

"Impossible? Are you so sure? Because I've been through that crevice, and there is an archway on the other side." He watched as her pale, freckled face became white as a sheet. All of her sass seemed to drain out of her and she stared at him in a strange mix of awe and shock.

"What?" She murmured as he began to chuckle. It was like a switch flipped and suddenly she was grabbing his shirt front trying to shake him. "Was there an inscription!? Above the door?! Was there!?" Desperation filled her hazel eyes and he smirked at her.

"Ut defunctis requiem sanctorum in pace" Another transformation came over her face. She looked as though she had seen the face of god.

"You have to show me how to get through that crevice!" She demanded her hands still gripping his shirt front. She looked fully prepared to attempt to shake him down, like a small dog baring it's teeth at a wolf. Where did she get the guts? He shrugged and pulled her little hands off of his shirt. They were rough for a woman's hands.

"Alright. I'll show you."He said simply as he took another swig of his scotch. Confusion puckered her brow and then suspicion set in.

"What's the catch?" She had recomposed herself and the air of defiance once again graced her otherwise pleasant features.

"Catch?" He gave her a dazzling smile, but she remained completely unphased. "There is no catch, ma cheri. I simply wish to aide you in the historical research of my fine country." One amber brow rose and and challenged him in disbelief. She was a cynical little woman wasn't she?

"Now, no more whiskey, I won't take you if you are hungover." Jean-Luc snatched her whiskey glass off the table and handed it to the passing bartender.

"Excuse me?" She snapped, obviously none to appreciative of his commanding tone.

"Would you like to die at a young age, because you got yourself stuck in a crevice?" He countered, taking another sip of his scotch. Her eye flicked between his face and the scotch. "I have a tolerance." He answered her unspoken question with a quirk of his brow. She gave a huff and crossed her arms. God did she ever remind him of Belle. A wilder, more fiery version, but the defiance was all the same.

"Why are you helping me if there isn't a catch?" She asked after a long moment of quiet.

"Why must there be a catch?" He looked down at her, still leaning rather close. Women were always more malleable when he was close. It distracted them.

"There is always a catch with men like you." Her voice held a certain bitterness that Jean-Luc found all too familiar. She had been burned before, most likely by a man exactly like himself. It was no wonder she was so cynical. Of course she was rightly so. He donned his most convincing look of sincerity and lost his smirk.

"No catch, besides, crawling through the catacombs in search of lost treasure sounds like adventure to me." He took a final swig of his scotch and set his empty glass on the bartop. "I'll meet you out front tomorrow, dress appropriately and be prepared to hate life." He said with a smirk before slapping a bill on the table and walking out of the bar. Not without winking to the bartender of course.

Jean-Luc stepped out onto the streets of Paris, his cocky smirk transformed into a look of dread. If she proved to be the sort of woman she appeared to be… He had searched for so long. Women these days were vapid and squeamish. It had been decades since he had come across a woman who had any chance of equalling Belle, but he had seen it in her eyes. When he had spoken the inscription her face had filled with wonder and awe. It was a look he remembered so clearly. Belle would make it whenever she would lay eyes on a new book. He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. Belle's face would torment him for the rest of eternity if he could not undo what he had done, and Dr. Patience Sin Claire could be the key to saving his soul. He stuck the key into the door of his luxurious sports car and got in. He had a long night in the catacombs ahead of him.

Patience watched the large man strut out of the bar and the moment he was out of sight, flagged down the bartender. She was a petite woman with a daringly low cut blouse and a short bob cut that favoured her cute nose and pouty lips.

"Who was that man?" Patience asked. The bartender tisked, and laughed.

"Jean-Luc La Fleur." She batted a bit of hair out of her face and leaned over the bar, obviously prepared to provide whatever gossip Patience desired. "He is very wealthy. You should pin him down as quickly as possible." The bartender gave her a cheeky smile and batted her big green eyes at Patience. "Unless of course men are not your preference." Green eyes gave Patience a slow once over. Patience quirked a smile and shrugged.

"The preferences change with my mood." Flirting never hurt when you were trying to get information. She'd learned that a long time ago. "What do you know about him.?" Patience wasn't going to go wandering around the catacombs with a man she knew nothing about. She needed to be sure he wasn't some Bundy type nutjob. The french woman gave a little pout and sighed. She tapped the bar top with one perfectly, pink, manicured nail and raised her eyebrows. Patience sighed and reached into her purse. She slid a bill under where the lovely pink nail had been. Finding the offering satisfactory, the bartender grabbed it and slipped it into her bra.

"He comes every night for one week each month. Usually comes to town for business, he lives in La Fleur de Bois. He owns half of the town, and is rolling in tourist money from allowing visitors into an old church he owns." The woman was straight to the point and didn't waste her breath with anything unnecessary. "He usually prowls for bimbos, I'm not sure why you caught his eye, you're not his usual type." Another once over from those green eyes. Patience nodded and threw down the money for her tab, plus a tip.

"Thanks, I'll take that into consideration." Patience made to collect her things and was surprised when a little pink card was slipped into her hand.

"In case your mood changes." She said with a wink. An unstoppable grin spread over Patience's lips and she nodded as she scooped up her bag and stowed her things before exiting the bar. She had a call to make and a lot of thinking to do.

The beast stood sentinel atop the highest tower of his castle. All was quiet, but the air was rife with tension. His hackles stood raised against the wind, and his flesh shook with anger. He had been prowling about the castle for days, leaving destruction in his path. His demons whispered in his ears leaving him restless and violent. An endless torment of blame, and hatred, and bitterness humming in his mind. _His fault, all his fault, nothing but a monster_. The dark cloud hanging over his head weighed heavily on him, and the whole castle had suffered for it. _As if they haven't already suffered enough_. A vicious roar ripped out of the Beast's chest and a gargoyle crumbled beneath his paws, smashing onto the roof below. The beast spun about and ran down the spiral staircase on all fours. There was not a piece of furniture in his chambers that did not bare the scars of his wrath. He had long since surrendered himself to living like a beast, for what was he if not a lowly animal? What was once a stately four poster bed had been transformed into a broken nest of down and torn cloth. He was intent upon curling up in his nest and withdrawing into his self hatred when he scented Lumier.

"What do you want!?" The beast snarled, baring his teeth at his unflappable Maitre D'. Lumier stood tall, hands behind his back and, burning golden eyes glaring daggers into his Master. _Handsome man, how dare he be a handsome man._

"The funeral is about to begin." Lumier announced calmly. The Beast dove into his nest petulantly and growled.

"I will not attend." _Not brave enough to see it. Cowardly, stupid, beast._ The beast clawed at his ears as though they burned him. Lumier watched, pitiless, and full of anger.

" will not forgive you." Lumier's tone was ice cold. He had obediently served his master for over 600 years. He had born insults, and abuses, but he would not stay silent any longer. The Beast roared and a broken chair sailed towards Lumier, missing him by mere inches. It was all ire, and bark. The Master had never struck him, not once, and Lumier was in no mood to scurry.

"After 600 years you are still nothing more than a petulant child!" He snapped. The beast roared and again clawed at his ears violently. _Nothing but a child, stupid and ugly and beastly!_ Lumier scoffed and turned on his heel, pausing by the door. "You will attend, or I will be the next to walk through those gates. I will not serve a coward." Lumier opened the door and slammed it, leaving the beasts agonized howls behind him. The servants stood solemnly in the corridor, looking at him with long, worried faces.

"You ought'nt have said those things." sobbed into a kerchief.

"I said what I had to say." Lumier put an arm around the older woman and soothed her gently. "Go and ready the Master for the service, we will not begin without him." He said waving two of the manservants off. They bowed and disappeared into the Master's chambers, followed by a cacophony of splintering wood.


	2. Chapter 2

Patience sat on the rickety bed in her rented room, knees tucked against her chest and one arm wrapped around them. She nodded as the older woman on the other end of her cellphone droned on about how she needed to be careful, and keep her wits about her.

"I know, Agatha, don't worry." Patience said reassuringly.

"How can I not worry? You're like a child to me, if that hooligan tries anything funny you'll be in a bad way!" The eccentric professor chided into the phone. "And besides that, this Jean-Luc character sounds like an absolute cad!" Patience smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I can handle myself, Aggie. I'm the one who got us out of that mess in Cairo, remember?" There was a stubborn pause and then Agatha sighed.

"You had better not get yourself killed, I simply can't imagine having to make that phone call to your inept, oxygen waste of a mother." Agatha sounded stern and flustered, but Patience knew she was only genuinely concerned.

"I'm too stubborn to die, you've said so yourself a thousand times, besides the point I got some information about him from the bartender."

"The most reliable of sources, I'm sure." Agatha groaned.

"Well she was trying to get in my pants, so I'll bet my sweet ass that the information is good." Patience heard a snort on the other end of the line and knew that the humor had softened Agatha's mood a bit.

"Alright, let's hear it." The professor still sounded utterly strung out with worry, but she sounded less cross.

"Apperently he is an eccentric, he owns half a town and an ancient church that he sells tours of. I've seen the website, he's had amazing restorative work done and has a priest who keeps the history of the place and gives mass three times a week. He's an extreme sportsman, likes fast cars and loose women." Patience paused to chuckle "Apparently I'm not particularly his type. He must actually be interested in the history and just want to help." She brushed her hair behind her left ear and stood up, crossing her room and grabbing the little pink card off of her nightstand. "Think I should call the bartender?" Patience asked in amusement. ~Camille~ flashed at her in little pink foil letters.

"Never fuck where you drink." Agatha answered immediately. "That can get ugly. What is the name of the town? I'd like to do my own research."

"La Fleur de Bois." Patience waited to hear keys tapping or some crude comment from her former professor, but there was only a moment of silence.

"You mean to tell me Jean-Luc De Bois has offered to help you?" There was more than a comfortable amount of disbelief in her voice.

"Yeah?" Patience waited a long moment for a response. "Aggie?"

"Let him help you." Agatha answered firmly.

"What? That is an awfully sudden change of tune. A moment ago you were calling him a cad." Patience put her hand on her hip and examined her messy desk as she spoke.

"You don't understand!" Agatha urged. "He is an enormous patron of historical excavations and research, if you get him to patronize you, you won't have to worry your pretty little head about getting grants ever again!" Agatha's smooth voice was tight with excitement. She sounded as though her star pupil had struck the lottery. Patience sat down on the bed and rubbed her brow.

"You mean I just so happened to bump into a walking piggybank that only pays out for historical research?" She didn't even want to get her hopes up. She had been having shit luck for months. Ever since she had landed in this damn country things had been going wrong, or not going at all.

"Bet your sweet ass on that, sweet heart." Agatha whistled. "Are you sure you aren't his type? A little leg wouldn't hurt your odds."

"Christ, Aggie." Patience laughed. "I've gotta go, I have an early morning." The woman on the other end hummed and gave a sigh.

"Alright, well have fun enchanting your piggy bank." Agatha gave a smooch into the phone and Patience responded in kind before hanging up.

"Well, shit." Patience said as she looked at her floor. Things might be looking up after all.

Agatha's POV

Agatha clicked her phone shut and looked across the table at the handsome young frenchman before her. They sat in the corner of her immense study, illuminated by the lonely light of a single tiffany lamp.

"I've practically handed her to you." She snapped. "Don't you dare fuck this up, do you understand me?" The lithe, blonde woman glared daggers and the frenchman would not meet her eyes. He instead stared shamefully at the spine of a particularly broad book of runes.

"If I do this, you'll let me die? You'll let me be with my sweet Delphine?" Jean-Luc looked up and barely met her eyes, but she could see the anguish there, in his soul. It had been four hundred years since she had cursed him. Four hundred years since he had committed an unspeakable crime, worth centuries of torment.

"Yes. I will let you die." Agatha spat. "But I cannot vouch for what will be done with you after that. The afterlife is not nearly as merciful as I." She watched him flinch, like a schoolboy after a firm slap to the face. "You should have never crossed me." Agatha folded her hands in her lap. She was a force to be reckoned with, and her fury was palpable.

"How do you know she is the right one?" Jean-Luc whispered. Agatha scoffed and pinched her brow in anger.

"I have groomed this girl since she was a child!" Agatha said coldly. "And on top of that she has more guts than you ever did." Agatha moved her hands and looked at the man. "Don't fail me Gaston, or you'll never get to die. A girl for the task only comes round once in many centuries. This is your last chance."

Jean-Luc swallowed. His ears had not heard his Christian name in centuries, and it burned him. He was not that man anymore.

"I will not fail you."

At the Castle.

The dower procession followed the casket as it was born across the castle grounds to the cemetery. Five butlers and Lumier carried their burden with grace, and held it aloft for all to see, and to mourn. Their meager cemetery had grown from a small patch of headstones, to a maze of some two hundred graves. The Beast, stalking silently at the rear of the procession saw each stone as an open wound. He had failed them. He had been the sole cause for every grave. Lumier and the butlers came to the stone altar that had been placed before the open grave with care. Gently, they placed the wooden box atop it, and the butlers stepped aside to join the rest of the procession. Lumier bowed his head in silence for a time, standing next to the casket with one hand resting on the lid. Mrs. Pots sobbed into her son's shoulder, and the boy struggled to comfort her while he held the precious roses for the casket. Every one of the gardeners had spent all morning selecting the finest blooms with care. The Beast observed as if detached from the scene. His dead eyes watched as Lumier lifted the lid of the casket and stepped aside. Cogsworth lay within, dressed in his finest clothes and pale as freshly fallen snow. One wrinkled hand clutched his precious pocket watch and the other held a wooden cross above his heart. His face was utterly peaceful. At the sight of him Mrs. Pots released a pitiful wail and sobs erupted throughout the group of mourners. They had found him at the castle gates. They all knew not to go through the gates, that death would greet them should they try. Cogsworth had taken his own life the only way any of them could, and it had shocked them all. Lumier folded his hands before him and looked at his fellows. Chip calmed , squeezing her and drying her tears with his handkerchief. Lumier cleared his throat, and all looked to him, with pained faces, for words of comfort.

"Cogsworth, was as a father to us all… He was wise, loyal and dedicated." Lumier paused and took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat. He had never given a eulogy before. Cogsworth had always borne that burden. "For centuries he was our support, and council, reminding us all to keep faith, and to hold out for the day we would be free." Lumier looked to his Master. The Beast would not meet his eyes. "His departure comes as a shock to us all… But friends we must not lose faith." The many eyes looked to Lumier now for their comfort. In them Lumier could see his own anguish reflected and he struggled quietly for the words that would soothe them. With Cogsworth gone, the responsibility of leading the household fell heavily on Lumier's shoulders. "Cogsworth was an aging man when the curse was placed upon us. He had reached the end of his years and yet, for six hundred more he denied himself peace so that he may nurture us, and soothe our souls." Lumier looked into the faces of each of his fellows, silently urging them to hear him, and to truly accept his words. "Cogsworth was forever hounded by the hands of time, stuck in the aching twilight years, forever bearing a smile and ignoring his own pains in order to guide us through ours." Lumier paused to choose his next words carefully. "To lose faith now, after he sacrificed so much for us, would be the utmost betrayal to his memory." The words came down like a hammer to a nail. "To ignore his teachings, once he finally felt we were ready to go on without him, once he allowed himself to take the peace he was owed six hundred years before, would be to turn our backs on his sacrifice… We are as birds, thrust from the nest, frightened and unsure, but we must find our own way now... We must honor his memory as it deserves to be honored." The air was thick with sorrow, but Lumier could see the silent agreement on the faces before him. He had said what needed to be said, as Cogsworth would have wanted. There need be no rambling speech for such a man. Cogsworth was a believer in the power of words, and had, in life, made a point not to waste them. Lumier nodded to Chip and the boy came forward, bearing the roses. Lumier took a single bloom, and laid it gently inside the casket. "Goodbye old friend. It was a pleasure to have served with you." Once Lumier stepped aside the procession came forward, each taking a rose in their turn and saying a final word for their dearly departed head of household.

The Beast watched, still as an ugly statue. He could feel nothing. Within him, his demons were silent, leaving him to rot in his own torment. The Master watched as a cluster of petals were caught in the breeze and drifted gently to fall at his feet. He stared at them, as red as blood drops, and utterly fragile. A long, sorrowful howl rose out of his throat,and as if permitted by his show of emotion, every servant began to weep.

Patience lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't quite remember when she had woken, or how long she had been staring into the darkness, but there was a deep sadness settled in her chest. It had been a long time since she had felt the heavy press of sorrow against her ribs, and what was worse, was that she couldn't reason with it. A lead had fallen into her lap in the form of a rich, handsome stranger, and yet the thought brought her no solace. With a groan she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. A flashing light on her nightstand caught her attention and she grabbed her light blinked many times before she built up the nerve to open her phone. At this hour it could only be one person, and she didn't want to give her sorrow anything to grab onto. Reluctantly she flipped her phone open and frowned at the screen as the unnatural, blue light jabbed at her eyes.

 **One new message**. She sighed and quickly pressed the little green button.

 **Bradley**

 **Baby, I know it's late. Please call.**

Patience scoffed and clicked her phone shut. Nope. She wouldn't be going down that rabbit hole. Despite her crushing depression, she wasn't nearly drunk enough to make that mistake. Bradley's handsome smiling face flashed in her mind and she cursed. It had been months and she could still remember the exact shade of his eyes. The sorrow in her chest turned into a gripping ache that squeezed her heart and made it hard to breathe. The whole reason she had taken this assignment, when Agatha recommended her for it, was to get away and to forget his stupid, cheating face. Now that she had what seemed to be a solid lead it was as if her mind had decided it was time to dredge up the scum. Patience pressed her fingers to her temples and sighed. Everyone had tried to warn her about him. Everyone had been able to see exactly what kind of guy he was and yet she had just skipped along after him like a stupid school girl, thinking how lucky she must be to have such a handsome man pay any attention to her. She'd given that scum four years of her life and he hadn't deserved two moments of it. Jean-Luc looked a lot like him. Same eyes, same build, same cocky grin, same damn mistake all over again. Patience kicked her legs off the side of the bed and stood up. The cold wooden floor numbed her feet as she stumbled to her work desk and pulled on the chain to the ancient little lamp. The soft glow filled the room and she squinted at the pile of papers there. She had to find something to distract herself, but she'd seen it all before. Every squigle, every scribbled note was too familiar. Papers crinkled plaintively as she shuffled through them, trying to find something for her mind to chew on, but there was nothing. With a growl she tossed the papers down. God she wanted to get drunk. A few good shots of whiskey would wipe her mind clean of the pain that was festering there, but she couldn't risk being unfit for the trip tomorrow. Her eyes caught sight of the little pink card that had fluttered to the floor while she rummaged through papers. It taunted her, offering such a lovely distraction, one from which she could not receive a hangover. Slowly she bent down and retrieved the card.

It was a fun game to play in her head, but she would never call, not on a night like this, she couldn't possibly risk it. Any other night she would call up the flirty, little bartender and give her a dalliance to remember, but her desire to find the chapel was too strong. Slowly she set the card back on her desk and plopped onto her bed in defeat. She was going to have to deal with this like an adult, even if only for one night. She nibbled on her thumb and gazed absently as she remembered everything. All the lies, the pain, the betrayal. She'd been broken the day she caught Bradley cheating and she had never actually put the pieces back together. She'd just run away, and had been flying by the seat of her pants ever since. Any time she slowed down, the pain and the sorrow would creep back in. Tomorrow would fix that, she had to believe it. If she found the chapel everything would be better. She would have something to submerge herself in. One hand ran through her mass of auburn curls and she sighed. When had her passion become an obsession? Ever since she was little she had been enchanted by ancient things and the stories they could tell her. Agatha had taught her how to read buildings, and items and bones, and how to hear the faintest whispers of the past. Whenever she touched an artifact it was like magic. She would get a powerful rush and suddenly she would see the story in her head, clear as day...When had her search for stories become so utterly desperate? With a heavy sigh Patience laid back in her bed and stared at her ceiling. She hadn't felt this bitter in months. It was almost like the sorrow didn't really belong to her, but it was there all the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Patience stood out front of the bar, leaned against the wall with her pack at her feet. Her tired eyes scanned the crowd for the handsome man from the night before. She hadn't slept well at all and she could feel an angry pressure in her forehead.

"You look to be in a lovely mood." The deep baritone came from her left and she slowly turned to look at Jean-Luc as he separated himself from the crowd of tourists. He had an easy smile on and looked like he'd tumbled straight out of a magazine. Dark hair in a handsome mess, Oakley sunglasses nestled atop his head. He looked perfectly rested and more than ready to start their adventure.

"And you look too chipper for being awake at the crack of dawn." Patience grumbled as he scooped up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. She wasn't going to argue, if he wanted to be a 'gentleman' and carry that heavy ass bag it was perfectly fine with her.

"I see I was right. You're in a shining mood." He grinned at her and began to walk back the way he came. She shoved off the wall and took up a position next to him as he led the way towards the entrance to the catacombs, some five blocks away. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea for Moses. "Now, tell me about your hidden chapel. Why are you looking for it, and what do you expect to find there?" He strutted down the sidewalk like some gladiator fresh from victory. Patience couldn't fathom how he was imbued with such an asinine amount of confidence.

"The chapel is supposedly the final resting place of a very prominent French priest, Pere Robert. He was buried in the catacombs so that he could shepherd the poor souls there towards paradise." Patience rubbed her tired eyes, but she kept pace with Jean-Luc's enormous strides.

"Why is this Pere Robert so important?" Jean-Luc asked tentatively. Patience wanted to roll her eyes.

"Some records have arisen about some very saintly deeds he performed nearly 300 years ago. The Vatican wishes to ensure that he is buried on sacred ground and that his remains have not been desecrated. You know how they love to keep the dead bits." Patience was not overly fond of the Catholic habit of keeping remains as holy relics, the bones, and teeth, and hair all pawned off as being imbued with holy power. It was gruesome to say the least.

"What are these saintly deeds?" Jean-Luc asked, sounding enormously curious. Patience decided that for the moment she would play along with his act.

"Apparently he rid a small town of the devil and burned a witch who had been tormenting the people there." She said with a shiver. "The town apparently came upon plentiful times after that." He wasn't a figure of enormous proportions to the Church, and that was a major part of why Patience even got the job. If he was a real somebody they would have sent out their own team to do the work, but he was of minor importance, and the whereabouts of the hidden chapel had been lost for centuries. Why not pay some American woman to waste her time in the muck?

"That does not sound very saintly." Jean-Luc said sounding unsettled.

"I agree, but the records state in no uncertain terms that it was a council with God himself in the form of a vision that led Pere Robert to the Devil and the Witch. According to the record he also set her alight without flint or stone. She simply burst into sacred flames when he began to pray for her wretched soul." Patience knew she shouldn't harbor any personal feelings about the people and culture she was studying. It was what was done back then, and she had to be able to study it with impunity, but the thought of some poor girl burning at the stake was unsettling.

"Horse shit." Jean-Luc spat as they finally reached the entrance.

"I thought you'd be more on the side of the Church." Patience mused as they joined the throng of tourists in line for the bag check.

"And why would you think that?" He asked with an amused grin.

"Because you got your fortune on the back of the very priest I'm looking for, and if he were to be made a saint your profits would skyrocket." She stated simply. His head jerked and he looked down at her in a mix of surprise and reevaluation.

"I see you've done your research." He stated with an air of approval. He had evidently underestimated her and made no attempt to hide it. Of course she had done her research. His family's history was on his website, all the way back to the man who had been bestowed church lands. The same church lands he now opened to tourists for a few Euros a piece. He even had a fucking gift shop.

"Put bills in front of a bartender and they'll sing like a bird. Google did the rest." Patience pulled an I.D card out of her pocket as well as a little pink permit slip. They stepped up to the bag check and Jean-Luc set her pack down while she handed the security guard her papers.

"Goodmorning Dr. Sinclaire, you have a guest with you today?" The plump man asked amicably as he examined her identification before returning it to her. She had never brought a guest before, even though her permit allowed her to bring an entire team if she chose to. She worked better alone.

"Oui. He is considering funding some research, he would like to see what I have accomplished so far." Lies were easy enough. They would never let Jean-Luc in if they thought he was just some schmuck off the street.

"Aren't you fully funded by the Church?" The guard asked amicably as he went through Patience's pack.

"What I believe is fully funded, and what the Church believes is fully funded, are two very different animals." She said with a commiserating smile. The guard laughed and nodded.

"Isn't it the way of scholars to starve?" He asked with a jolly little grin.

"Not if I have any say in the matter." Jean-Luc took the offered pack and waved to the security guard as they passed through and into the stairwell that led down into the belly of the city.

They moved quickly, and passed beneath the famous inscription without so much as a glance upwards. They were neither of them strangers to the kingdom of the dead, and the morbid fear it instilled in most who entered. The tunnels they passed through were just wide enough for them to walk abreast, and had lights every few feet. The presence of the corpses, and the dim, macabre setting made them both respectfully silent. They came to another checkpoint where a guard stood by an iron door that separated the tourist attraction from the historical excavation area. Once again Patience produced her papers and they were let through without a problem.

These tunnels were well lit with work lights and a few archaeologists were scattered about taking records and examining bones. They all looked like undergraduates scraping for something to show their professor when he arrived. Not one of them had ever bothered with Patience, not that she gave off a very welcoming vibe, but they all peeked at her and her handsome companion as they passed.

"It was no coincidence that you found me in that bar was it?" Patience asked accusingly as soon as they were out of earshot of the other researchers. The question had been chewing at her all night. If he had targeted her, and intended to steal her discovery she might just murder him.

"No, it was not." He said with a devilish smile. "You must admit it was far more exciting than going through the proper channels." Jean-Luc was obviously unfazed by the accusation in her tone and seemed utterly content to remain chipper.

"You are an eccentric!" She snapped. "Who does something like that?"

"There goes that delightful mood of yours." His voice was nothing but conversational and joking. Patience gave a heavy sigh and looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she led the way towards the passage in question.

"So I can only assume your interest in the chapel has solely to do with Pere Robert and his remains. I also have to come to the conclusion that since you are showing me the passage and know the inscription above the entrance to the hidden chapel, that you have already been inside of it, and that you know exactly what we are going to find." Patience could not completely hide her frustration. The thought of having the discovery taken from her by some asshole gazillionaire was just too much to cover up with niceties. If he took this from her… she couldn't even bring herself to imagine it. This project had been her salvation, she had to see it through, she had to learn the truth; pull it from the relics with her knowledge and determination

"I have not been within the chapel." He stated firmly, halting in his tracks and looking at her very seriously. Patience stopped and turned to look at him.

"Why should I believe you?" She snapped. Funding be damned, he had taken away her chance to uncover the chapel, and his presence alone in such a sacred place would sully the truth left behind the moment he breathed the archaic air. Patience felt flushed and tense. Her hands were balled into little fists and she looked like the shining image of anger.

"Because you were right. I did receive my fortune due to the works of Pere Robert. Centuries ago he bestowed the Church's lands upon my family for their aide in his disgusting deeds, and for centuries they were content to live off of the backs of others, and hide the atrocities that stained their past." Jean-Luc's voice was rife with conviction and anger. He shook his fist to emphasize his words and seemed not even to truly be speaking to her. "I will not make that mistake. I have spent my entire life, and my fortune, bringing my history to light, and I will not step foot in the tomb of the man who doomed my lineage to be marred by the stain of burning an innocent girl at the stake."

Patience considered Jean-Luc for a long moment through narrowed eyes. If he was lying, he played the part too well. He looked like a stage actor giving a tragic backstory.

"But you'll help me find him so the Church can turn him into an icon?" Patience crossed her arms and glared at him. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I will help you find him so that you can expose him for the sinful man that he was." Jean-Luc said grimly. The shadows cast by his cheekbones made him look like a specter, and his brown eyes seemed almost black. It was an eerie effect, and it made Patience shiver suddenly.

"I'm not being payed to defame him." Patience stated firmly. If she marred the image of a long dead priest, one that the church intended to praise and make an exhibition of, she would never find work again. The Church would see to it.

"Accept my offer, and you will be." Jean-Luc looked her dead in the eye. He looked like a man who had never been more serious in his life. Patience swallowed and stood taller. She had not expected him to actually make her an offer of employment. She had yelled at him and accused him of using her for profits, and yet now he was offering her funding, to do something that would doom his potential profits?

"Go on?" She would at the very least hear his offer. Even if she had no option but to turn him down. Doing what he asked would doom her career as well as his profits.

"Help me unearth the truth about this man, and I will fund any and all research you wish to undertake for the rest of your life." There wasn't a single breath of hesitation in his offer. "Without limit. You will live out your life, fulfilling your passion, while living like a queen."

Patience blinked a few times, utterly unsure of how to respond. Who in the hell made offers like that? Apparently rich eccentrics did. She pressed her hand to her forehead and tried to wrap her head around it.

"No limit?" Patience asked. He couldn't possibly be serious, but he looked at her with an amount of conviction the likes of which she had never before seen. It was almost archaic, the way he made his deal, like he didn't belong to this century. There was a valliance him that belonged to the past.

"None." Patience's hazel eyes probed his brown ones and searched for any sign that he was lying. She couldn't see the faintest hint of a farce.

"Until I die?" She pressed. Comfort, and the ability to pursue her passions as she saw fit for the rest of her life? That was nothing but a silly dream every researcher imagined while they were scraping to get grants. Yet here she was, being given her dream, in a dark, dirty passageway, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of corpses.

"And for your ancestors for as many generations as my family has means to provide." Jean-Luc held out his right hand, for her to shake, and she stared at it in the dim light. A little voice in her head told her that if she shook his hand, she would be making a deal with the devil, but she was an Atheist, so what did that matter?

Patience took his hand and shook it.


	4. Chapter 4

The rock pressed in around Patience on all sides. She was jammed in between two sharp rocks where the passage bottlenecked, she had no more than 2 inches of room on any side of her. The passage was 20 feet long, and she had managed to wriggle, and force her way through most of it, but she had been stuck in this position for nearly twenty minutes. There was no light except for her own headlamp attached to her battered helmet and her legs were nothing but pins and needles.

"How in the hell did you do this!?" Patience yelled ahead of her. "You're twice my size!"

"I wouldn't say twice your size." He answered with a chuckle. A frustrated yell echoed back at him.

"Really? You're going to rip on my weight now!?" She pushed forward with her knees, but was met only with the biting edge of the rock digging into her hips. "I'm not even fat!" She growled as she let her body slip back into the same position as before.

"I was only teasing, ma Cherie. Rest for a moment." Patience groaned. She had been through hundreds of passages in her short 27 years of life, but none had ever challenged her like this one.

Every muscle in her body ached with fatigue, she was covered in nasty scrapes, and she was certain, more than one bruise. She shifted her weight as much as she could so that the pressure from the rocks was distributed as evenly as possible. Scuffling came from ahead of her and the light shifted before a water bottle appeared in her view. It was uncapped and in her position she couldn't take it from him so she opened her mouth and grunted, allowing him to pour it into her mouth. She drank as much as she could, but it spilled all over her face and mixed with the dust on her skin. He pulled the bottle away and she heard more scuffling. "You're almost there, Ma Cherie. Only a few more feet.

"It may as well be a thousand miles." She mumbled as she took a few deep breaths. It was easy to panic with the whole world pressing down around you, and so little air to breath. Many people have died from panic attacks in passages such as this one.

"Now, I want you to take a deep breath, and then force out all of the air in your lungs and press forward as hard as you can. It will not feel good."

"Because I feel so comfortable now." She quipped as she prepared herself mentally for what was to come. Patience had suffered her share of bumps and bruises, she could handle a few more. Unable to bear her position any longer she gave a huge sigh and blew as much air out of her lungs as she could, while at the same time shoving forward with her knees. The rock dug into her skin and she could tell it was cutting her, but she kept pushing. Suddenly the rock lost it's hold on her and she slipped through the bottleneck onto the flat bottom of the passage beyond. The little taste of freedom gave her the energy to army crawl the final five feet, which were smooth sailing compared to the bottleneck, and she flopped gracelessly out the end of the passage and onto the stone floor. Her chest heaved as she sucked in gulps of stale, dusty air. Jean-Luc smiled down at her, his headlamp shining in her eyes.

"Congratulations, you made it in alive." He said as he clapped his hand to hers and hauled her up off of the stone floor. She wasn't ready to be stood up, her head spun, and suddenly having so much space to move was disorienting. She did not have the wherewithal to protest when he lifted the hem of her shirt and poured water onto the cuts that covered the tops of her were not deep, but they joined to make a painful rash that stung badly.

"Ouch, God damn it!" She batted his hand away and clutched her side as she began to think clearly. "I'll be fine." Patience looked around the small chamber they had entered, only a few feet across in all directions, and opposite from the crevice they had used to enter, was a door shaped corridor, only about 6 feet high by 3 feet wide. Above this passage was an inscription, the same inscription Jean-Luc had quoted in the bar only the night before. Jean-Luc watched as Patience went from dazed to a state of intense focus. She looked as though nothing in the world existed except the passage before them. It almost appeared as though she were entranced.

Patience stood very still, peering down the small corridor. Her lamp light illuminated the entire corridor up until its termination, and nothing beyond. There was nothing but a black end. She swallowed her nerve and surged ahead. The anticipation crawled beneath her skin, making her flush with excitement as she came to the end of the corridor. Her lamplight fell upon a tomb, with the stone figure of a priest lying prostrate, cross cradled in his left hand, and his right anointing his resting place. She could feel the ages, charging the air and sending her skin to shivers. Centuries had passed in this quiet place, the air was still and there was utter silence. She had never been able to explain this feeling to anyone. The moment her feet had left the corridor, the place had forced its energy into her, filling her to overflowing with peace and elation. It was a high she felt only in ancient places. This tomb was not so old, but it was utterly undisturbed, and the truth was still here for her to learn. She spun around and returned to where Jean-Luc stood, grabbing her bag and removing a camera and a digital recorder, not even glancing at the man as she hurried back down the passage and into the tomb. She hung her camera around her neck and pressed the record button on the digital recorder and immediately began uttering a string of observations. The size of the tomb, it's singular antechamber, the stone used in it's floor and walls, the gilded candlesticks and crucifix that were mounted to the far wall. Every minute detail was recorded as it came to her attention. The main chamber of the tomb was ten meters square, and modestly adorned as was to be expected. The antechamber held nothing but a pedestal with a stone bible atop it.

An hour passed before Patience remembered the existence of her companion, grudgingly she returned to the chamber and looked at him where he leaned gracefully against the stone wall. She had photographed and taken notes of 30% percent of the chamber, and he had not moved an inch.

"You are dutifully thorough ma petite cherie." He thrummed with a grin. Patience grimaced at his familiar rhetoric but chose not to bring it up. She had the irritating feeling that if she told him to stop he would simply continue to do so with more gusto.

"I will need a few months here." She stated firmly. "I've documented a good portion of the tomb, however I will need to take samples and receive permission to open the casket." Jean-Luc shook his head lazily and grinned.

"There is no need, nor is there time." Jean-Luc pushed away from the wall and dusted off his shirt front. Patience snorted in disbelief.

"What?" She didn't care to believe what he had just said. "You offered me employment based on the research I am doing on Pere Robert and now you mean to tell me that you don't want me to finish it? I did not drag my ass through that passage to leave this half done!"

"I offered you employment based on your character and nothing more. This little exercise was simply to prove that I am a man of my word." Jean-Luc grinned calmly as he watched multiple emotions flash over her features. "I have a job for you that you will like much better than this dirty hole in the ground."

"And what might that be?" The audacity of the man before her was mind boggling. What could he possibly have hidden up his sleeve that could interest her more. She had poured thousands of hours into finding this chapel, and he had handed it to her only to rip it away one hour into the actual work.

"I cannot do it justice with mere words, Ma Cherie, but if you will come with me to La Fleur De Bois, I promise you will not regret it." The little woman seemed to turn what he said over in her mind. Patience ran her hand over her dirt covered face and through her messy curls.

"Fine." She grumbled. "But if it doesn't blow my mind then I'm coming right back here and finishing my work." She wasn't going to be whisked away like some mindless minion. She would go on her own terms.

"Bon, I have a car waiting for us. Your things have already been collected and sent to my estate." With a dashing smile and without another word Jean-Luc yanked her pack off the floor and tossed it into the crevice.

Patience sat across from Jean-Luc with her arms crossed over her dirty tank top. He was draped over his seat with a scotch poised in his right hand. He had been looking at her far too comfortably for most of their drive. Patience had known he was rich but she hadn't expected a limousine with a fully stocked bar, or a gray haired chauffeur to open her door and stow her bags.

"Is this a regular occasion for you?" She snapped. They were now well outside of Paris, traversing idyllic little fields dotted with livestock. She hadn't spent much time in the sun for months and the sunshine was making her irritable.

"Piare usually takes this route, yes." Jean-Luc could not help but tug at Patience's strings. "When was the last time you smiled, ma petite cherie?" She scowled at him and turned to look out the window. With a soft chuckle Jean-Luc grabbed a chilled glass from the sideboard and promptly filled it with whiskey. He dangled it infront of her until she begrudgingly took it and knocked it back. "Why don't we play a game?" He suggested as he filled her glass once again.

"What kind of game?" Patience took another swig of whiskey and eyed him suspiciously. She had reconciled herself to the fact that she would be spending quite a bit of time with the man she had met just the night before. Had she lost her mind? It was certainly possible.

"It is my humble opinion that you and I should get to know one another." Jean-Luc set the whiskey back in the sideboard and settled in his seat. "Perhaps we should play a guessing game. We could take turns guessing things about one another, and if we guess incorrectly, we drink. If we guess correctly the other will drink."

Patience raised one fiery eyebrow and gave a cautious nod. "Alright." Neither of them could give a damn that it was the middle of the day on a Tuesday. "But I get to go first."

"As you wish, ma cherie." Jean-Luc waved his hand lazily and smiled wider.

"I guess that you have a habit of plucking women out of Paris for liaisons and then tossing them back where you found them." This elicited a hearty laugh from the burly man.

"Your opinion of me is glowing. Drink." Jean-Luc smirked and rubbed his stubbled jaw. Patience knit her eyebrows together in disbelief, but took a swig nonetheless.

"You came to France to escape something didn't you?" Jean-Luc watched Patience's look sober. He nodded knowingly as she took yet another drink.

"I don't think I like this game." She mumbled. Patience blinked as she turned once again to the window.

"It has only just begun." Jean-Luc chided.

"And yet I already want it to end." Patience swallowed and glanced back at Jean-Luc who was wearing a rare look of disappointment. "You're my employer, not my friend." She stated firmly.

"Such a temper, ma cherie. " Jean-Luc shook his head and quirked a brow. "Is my company so unbearable?" Patience felt a pang of guilt and sighed. When had she become such an angry cunt?

"No." She mumbled reluctantly. "I'm sorry. I'm not much for anyone's company these days."

"He's a scoundrel." Jean-Luc took a sip of his drink. "The man who made your temper deserves to be punished for such a crime." He found himself meaning his words sincerely. Several hundred years to think had given him more insight into emotion than he had ever wanted. Patience raised a hand to grip her curls and shrugged.

"If he's a scoundrel then I'm a fool." Patience had kept her feelings on the matter clamped up tight. She hadn't talked to anyone about it, not even Agatha, but the whiskey had loosened her lips. "Handsome faces always seem to be the downfall of foolish women." The bitterness of her words was tragic, but she hardly had the energy to feel her own pain. Another heavy swig passed her lips before her gaze returned to the man before her. The look of pity he wore was like a slap in the face. What was she doing spilling her guts to this stranger?

"You speak too harshly of yourself. You are no fool Dr. Sinclaire." Jean-Luc had hardly noticed that they had neared his estate, and his stomach sank as they pulled into the driveway of his palatial mansion. Very soon he would betray her, and he would be just another cruel, handsome face.


End file.
